s.wordthruheart

  Verboten The world is changing very rapidly. We are like dancers. In the dark room we spin; only flashes of color from our flying costume are seen – by whom? There are many kinds of dancers. Some don't even move and are only eyes unblinking in the darkness. It was one such pair of eyes that was watching me, and only me. I watched the eyes and never saw them fixate on another dancer for more than a few seconds. They snapped back onto me, hungrily, patiently, and quietly, not wanting to be seen (for watchers' eyes are large and a dancer's eyes are closed). We change our costumes often now. They are like ribbons in the long night of the world. * The world is full of noise. Everybody's chatter, everybody's life story: spewed out in a continuous, broken stream. An individual rarely makes a stream, being too disjointed; altogether one chaotic, bubbling brook, yet unbroken. A pair of eyes stands outside the noise in a quiet room that seems otherwise inaccess...

 I walked into the fog of a spell avoiding it was impossible for I was born blind (blindness the sin – see at any cost) like all, a fog lain over the land where we dwell: see it too late – it covers itself. when all becomes fog, world becomes bathed in gray we become accustomed to limited spectrums within our conception what breaks our perception? given a cure – then it's taken away or diverts the curse into new dimension: symbols are abstracts; the ocean is mere introspection look inward, into the fog – fog has settled there now you're buried in air! and water but not the waters of life; you come to think you are the cause all misery it stems from within outwardly one bears on arm a tattoo St. Mary the Virgin – she speaks through symbols lift the fog in spirit symbols are living: we, animated frightening for man to be put in his proper place beneath spirits but man is no monkey collection of beating molecules eating and moving toward nothing within...